


Debilitating

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Canon-Compliant, Closure, Flirting, Fluff, M/M, Marauders, Meet Again, Prisoner of Azkaban, The Marauder's Map, The Shoebox Project, bc they are together at some point gosh darn it!, kiss, seeing each other after a long time, the fanfiction gap of prisoner of azkaban, the shoebox project marauders, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-04
Packaged: 2020-02-23 21:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,794
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18709987
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: Twelve years. The thought was almost debilitating. Remus thought that Sirius would grin at that word, debilitating. He could just see him, when they were younger and all long limbs and boyish charm.'Moony,' he would have said, leaning on the common room couch, no doubt in one of Remus's jumpers. 'Moony, do I debilitate you? Are you debilitated? Does the thought of me in my full glory -- naked, as all natural things should be -- does that debilitate you?'ORThe One Where Journeys End In Lovers Meeting





	Debilitating

**Author's Note:**

> I've just finished The Shoebox Project (omg if you haven't read it plz do) and I had to write this. I tried to keep it as true to tone as I could, though I am but an American and I imagine I used some slang and spelling wrong.

Remus slowly turned to the map as Harry left his classroom. It couldn't be. It... It just couldn't...

He pressed his wand firmly against the old pages, whispering, "I solemnly swear that I am up to no good."

The ink bloomed across the page like a pensieve, spelling out words from a life that seemed so very far away now. Messrs. They... They _literally_ called themselves Messrs.

He unfolded it, leaning close, nose brushing the parchment until he saw the two small footsteps, drawn in James's steady hand.

Peter Pettigrew.

He snatched the map up, barely whispering "Mischief managed" as he dashed down the halls. He passed Filch, hardly noticing the crotchety old man as his heart beat loud in his ears. He could almost _sense_ him, by Merlin. He could feel how close Peter was.

There was nothing as he rounded the last corner.

But there -- there, faintly on the air, a soft smell. One he recognized from a train ride not that long ago.

Remus snarled then, felt the pull of a full moon hiding behind the sun. He darted into a broom cupboard, locking it behind him as he pulled the map out again.

He said the words and unfolded it yet again, looking for a different name this time. An old one. One that used to make his heart dance.

One that still did.

"O Sirius," he breathed out, watching the pacing footprints. "O my star, what have they done?"

He ran out of the cupboard, almost knocking over some students.

Twelve years. The thought was almost debilitating. Remus thought that Sirius would grin at that word, debilitating. He could just see him, when they were younger and all long limbs and boyish charm.

'Moony,' he would have said, leaning on the common room couch, no doubt in one of Remus's jumpers. 'Moony, do I debilitate you? Are you debilitated? Does the thought of me in my full glory -- naked, as all natural things should be -- does that _debilitate_ you?'

To which Remus would have held back a grin, hidden it with a small twitch of his lips. 'The only thing about you that is debilitating,' Remus would say, 'is your unbearable odour and sense of humour. Honestly, have you ever taken a bath? Do you know what they are?'

Sirius would put a hand over his heart, grinning. 'O my Moony, how you wound me. I smell of the wild and of freedom. And yet you would tame me? Make me smell of -- smell of begonias and roses, like Evans? Is that what you desire? For James's affections to be shifted to me?'

'I believe, were you to adequately bathe yourself, James would still not have you. This, of course, is likely due to your large ego and rather small -- well.'

And Sirius would howl with laughter, as only Moony and some very choice pranks could make him do.

Remus desperately wished that Sirius still smelled like wet dog and petrol. He thought that, were Sirius to smell of begonias and roses, he might have to weep.

Remus tried not to think of the third option as long grass brushed across his running ankles: that Sirius, being in prison for some twelve years, would smell like metal, and death, and slavery.

Remus ran faster.

Remus always had been a soft sort, filled with what adults considered manners and children considered quirks. He was often observed unmoving, an exact antithesis to Sirius's constant movement. When, in those rare instances, Sirius would be still -- though his mouth would be moving fast to make up for it -- Sirius would sit by him and rest his legs across Remus's lap. After that kiss, so uncharacteristically boldly initiated by Remus himself, Sirius would rest his head on Remus's lap, or Remus's stomach, or, on one occasion, Remus's head itself, causing Remus a terrible nose ache the next day.

He dove into the Shrieking Shack, following the sounds of yelling.

He burst in, wand outstretched, shouting, "Expelliarmus!" at the child that had Sirius pinned down.

Oh, Merlin. It was James's son.

He motioned for him to move, and the child did. And now, finally now, Remus faced Sirius Black.

All the panic that had been within him subsided at seeing his dirty face and greasy hair.

There before him was his best friend, the man he had missed more than anything.

The bonkers idiot.

"Well well Sirius," Remus said, unable to not fall directly back into that incessant teasing, that underhanded flirting, "looking rather ragged, aren't we? Finally the flesh reflects the madness within."

It was a test, Remus knew. A soft joke, an opening for Sirius to either snarl in anger or respond likewise.

"You'd know all about the madness within, wouldn't you, Remus?" Sirius drawled. And there, there it was. The apology Remus had given, and the acceptance Sirius responded with. Nothing had changed between them.

Remus couldn't help his small smile as he lowered his wand, offered a hand to help his friend up.

He wasn't expecting the desperate hug, the ever-cold nose pressed against his neck. His arms came to wrap around Sirius awkwardly, unsure what he was allowed to say, allowed to do.

"I found him," Sirius said gleefully.

"I know."

"It's him!"

"I understand."

"Let's kill him!"

"NO!" came an interrupting cry. Remus looked over to where Hermione stood, his arms still wrapped around Sirius. "I TRUSTED YOU! And all this time... You've been his friend."

Remus lowered his head, glanced at Sirius. Of course Sirius hadn't explained the situation to them. Of _course_ he hadn't.

"He's a werewolf! That's why he's been missing classes!" Hermione yelled.

Remus dropped his arms from Sirius, somewhat in shock. "How long have you known?"

"Since Professor Snape set the essay."

Remus discreetly put himself between the children and Sirius. "Well well well, Hermione, you really are the brightest witch of your age I've ever met--"

"Enough talk, Remus! C'mon, let's kill him!" Sirius begged, shifting on his feet.

"Wait!" Remus ordered.

"I did my waiting! Twelve years of it! In _Azkaban!"_

Remus glanced back at his Padfoot, all dirt and wrinkles and shakes. There was a desperation in him, as if, were Remus to say no, he would crumple to the ground and never move again.

"Very well."

\---

Remus awoke the next day naked in the woods, scratched and bruised and bloodied. He groaned and rolled onto his stomach, propping himself up with his elbows.

"Bollocks," he murmured to himself.

"You look as bad as I," a voice before him said.

Remus jerked his head up to see Sirius, sitting cross-legged before him. “It’s ‘as bad as me’,” Remus retorted.

“Really? I thought I got that one right.”

“It’s only ‘I’ if there is a verb directly following.” Remus tried to push himself up, but winced and fell back down instead. “Bugger all.” He rested his chin on his forearms, studying Sirius. “Did I do all that to you, old friend?”

Sirius absently touched the fresh cuts littering his own body. “Yes, but I think I got you back rather equally.”

Remus breathed quietly, merely studying Sirius’s face. “You look bloody awful,” he finally said.

“Well, you--” Sirius lifted his head a little, eyes trailing down Remus’s bare back. “You look fine, actually. Have you been exercising, mate? All this running about in the woods seems to be doing you some good.”

“Ah, indeed. Lifting large books does give you a few muscles. You’d know that, were you ever to actually pick one up.”

“Are you lifting large books with your arse, then?”

Remus dropped his head, shoulders shaking with hidden mirth. “You haven’t changed much, have you, Padfoot?”

Sirius shuffled closer, leaves crunching under him as he laid down beside Remus. “Well, that’s not entirely fair. My hair is longer, isn’t it?”

Remus turned his head on his arms, smiling softly at the familiar face before him. “It is. Does it please you? I saw it and thought you might hate how mangled and greasy it is.”

Sirius laughed in surprise. “I beg your pardon, then, for not being pristine after having just escaped a maximum security prison. I’ll have you know I very much love this hair, and am planning on putting it into a bun the very moment I find a hair tie.”

Remus’s hand trailed across Sirius’s cheek. “I have missed you, you know.”

“And I you.”

“I’m sorry for thinking you were the spy.”

“I thought the same of you.” Sirius held onto Remus’s hand. “I do have to ask, though. Why did you never tell them? Any of them?”

“Tell them what?”

“That I could turn into a dog, Moony. They didn’t know. That’s how I got out.”

Remus’s lips pursed in thought. “I did always have a soft spot for you, I suppose.”

A grin spread across Sirius’s lips. “You love me still, don’t you, Moony?”

Remus raised one eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume that I ever stopped.” And he leaned in and kissed him, before his mind got the better of him.

By the time they each pulled back, Remus became aware of tears trailing down his face. “Oh, bother.”

Sirius shook his head. “Moony, if you cry, it’ll be the end of the world. I cannot bear to see that.”

“Then close your eyes, you daft old man.”

“And miss seeing your gorgeous face?”

Remus grinned. “Ah, yes, because it is definitely my face you are staring at.”

“I am staring at the whole of Moony, who only very rarely would go on drunken, naked shenanigans with us.”

“You’ve seen me naked plenty of times!”

“Well, yes, but now you are far more manly than you were back then. Twelve years does a lot to a man’s body.”

“And a man’s teeth and breath, apparently. Please go brush your teeth, Sirius.”

“With what? A plant of some sort?”

“Yes. Brush your teeth with a mandrake. I’ll be over here, covering my ears.” Remus made to get up. “I have extra at the Order, which is where we will be hiding you.”

“Mandrakes?”

Remus held out a hand to pull Sirius up. “Toothbrushes. My word, have you lost _all_ your common sense?”

“Most of it, I presume.”

“Well. I can’t say you ever had much to begin with.” Remus pulled Sirius into his arms, pressing his nose against his neck. “You smell the same,” Remus whispered.

“Is that so? What do I smell like?”

Remus pulled back to stare into Sirius’s eyes, smiling. “Freedom.”

There was a faint blush across Sirius’s cheeks. “Goodness, Moony. You’re going to make _me_ want to be all free and naked.”

And there was a devilish glint in Remus’s eyes as he said, “Well, then. What’s stopping you?”


End file.
